Regret
by Girrlkitty
Summary: John receives a letter from his past.


TITLE: Regret

AUTHOR: Girrlkitty

STATUS: Complete

RATING: G

CATEGORY: General, angst

SUMMARY: John receives a letter from his past.

SPOILERS: None

WARNINGS: None

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not entirely sure where this came from. I guess it was just a story I needed to tell. Thanks to Dee and Yllek who gave it a quick read for me! Any errors are mine alone, and comments/suggestions are always welcome!

ARCHIVE: Do not archive without the author's express permission.

DISCLAIMER: The Stargate, SGA, the Wraith, and all characters that have appeared in the series STARGATE ATLANTS, together with the names, titles, and back story, are the sole copyright property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., the SciFi Channel, and Acme Shark. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea, and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

Excitement seemed to make the air around Atlantis thrum. The Daedalus was scheduled to arrive shortly, and already people were gathering near the hangers.

In addition to supplies and luxury items, the ship brought back a piece of home. Regular contact made it possible for people to connect with loved ones, using broad and security-cleared language of course. But letters from home filled with news about babies, marriages, sheep-shearings, etc. always ensured a warm welcome.

Sometimes the letters were about darker things, though.

John Sheppard meandered down the hall, wearing a tolerant smile as he passed the bubbling crowd. A few passed him going the opposite direction with papers clutched to them like life-lines, so he knew Colonel Caldwell and crew had already arrived.

Since he didn't really have anyone to receive letters from, John usually held back when Daedalus first arrived to let the letter receivers get out of the way before he got to organizing the unloading of supplies. As he arrived at the bay, he saw a grin from Elizabeth Weir, and immediately started to suspect something.

"John! There you are. I was wondering what kept you." She moved toward him, and he saw a small envelope in her hands. "This came for you." She produced it with a flourish, obviously expecting him to get all giddy.

Not likely.

Without bothering to see who it could possibly be from, he tucked it into his jacket. He would never admit it was killing him to know more about it. "Thanks." He turned to the waiting Marines. "All right boys, lets get this puppy unloaded!"

He tried to hide his triumphant grin from Elizabeth, but sine she laughed and shook her head as she walked out of the hanger, he had a feeling he hadn't done a great job.

oOo

It was hours later, and evening had fallen over the city. John locked his bedroom door behind him with a casual thought, grateful the long day of hauling, organizing, and breaking up fights of who got first priority on what was finally over. Good God, you would think Rodney was a two year old they way he tried to hoard all the coffee for himself. Didn't the man ever hear of sharing?

It wasn't until he flopped down onto the bed, too tired to even undress first, that he remembered the letter. It crackled as he pulled it out of the inside pocket where it had spent the day. Turning it over, he frowned, not placing the name on the return address.

After a few heartbeats, he suddenly remembered.

Stacy.

But while it was her last name on the letter, it wasn't her first. That was another name, Annie. Without knowing why, his stomach suddenly seemed to be trying to do back-flips.

Slowly, he opened the letter, almost reluctant now to know what it contained. His hands didn't cooperate however, and his eyes betrayed him, skimming the words on the page.

_John,_

_I don't know where you are, and the military wouldn't tell me. They say this will get to you, and I suppose I have to trust them._

_In case you don't remember, I am Annie Lepsin, Stacy's mother. We only met a few times, but you two were close once, so I guess I thought I owed you something. Maybe I just don't want to let go yet, so I am delving into my daughter's past._

_Stacy is gone. It was a few months ago, and it took me this long to work up the courage to commit that to paper. A drunk driver swerved into her lane on the highway, ramming her head-on. I am told it was instant and she felt no pain, which I suppose is some solace._

_Stacy never said anything, but I got the impression she was waiting for you. Maybe that's why she never got married. I don't know. Maybe I just want to blame someone, you, for not being here. To save her, to bring her back, to share the pain of losing her._

_I don't know if you will ever see this, but if you do, at least I will know there is one other person in the world who grieves for a girl who shouldn't have left so soon._

_-Annie_

Choking, John threw the letter away from him, willing it to go away. He stumbled out onto his balcony, grateful to the wind for drying the tears before they could really form.

Stacy. Gone.

There had been a time, so long ago. They had been close, but just friends. Never anything more, although there had been times they had both considered it. But life had pulled them apart. He had joined the military, she had gone on to a career.

Somehow, through everything, he had thought she would always be there. That she would out-live him, not the other way around.

A million regrets flooded through him. Why? Why hadn't he told her he loved her when they were still just kids in college? Why hadn't he promised anything when he saw they tears she refused to shed as he packed his bag and headed off to boot camp? Why hadn't he ever called her when he had the chance? Why?

And now it was too late. She was gone.

He didn't know how long he stood at the railing, the soft sounds of the city seeming to share his grief and regrets. With a sigh, he finally pushed himself away and went back inside. He carefully stored the letter at the bottom of the desk drawer, unwilling to throw it away, and unwilling to look at it again.

As he drifted off to sleep, he steeled himself, creating a fictitious story in his head to tell Elizabeth when she asked about the letter, and firmly forcing the memories of Stacy away.

He couldn't change the past, and he had made mistakes before. This was just one more to add to the pile. Now, today, he had a city to protect and a job to do.

He couldn't let them down. He couldn't let them become just another regret.


End file.
